I've suffered from anxiety and OCD for nearly 8 years now. It used to be really bad- I hated going out anywhere because it always felt as if people were staring at me, talking about me (I'd been bullied in both primary and secondary schools, which didn't help this). I couldn't use the phone at all, and I had only three friends, who I rarely saw, and who didn't realise anything was wrong. It wasn't until Year 9 that I recovered sufficiently to be able to talk to other people, and I made a few friends, but even they didn't understand- everyone just thought I was antisocial and unfriendly.
My parents were little help too- they just said I was "shy", that I'd grow out of it. They didn't seem to realise how genuinely terrified I was of going out, nor that it was messing up my life. They did send me to see someone about the OCD once, when I was twelve- that was because even my mum couldn't fail to notice that my hands had cracked open because of how often I washed them. But I kicked up a fuss about going, and refused to go back afterwards, so my parents just let me be. It wasn't until I was fourteen that I read an article about OCD in a magazine that made me realise what was really wrong. I somehow fought against it and it hasn't really come back since, though I've had several relapses.
I still hated using the phone and talking to people I didn't know, something else my mum attributed to my "shyness". She arranged for me to see a hypnotherapist, who gave me a few "confidence lessons", but this didn't help much, and he said there was nothing wrong with me. I thought joining a drama group would help since a few of my friends from school went there, but all it did was make me feel even more inadequate, being surrounded by all these amazingly confident and talented people. I still stayed in the group for two years, even though most of my friends had left- I find it difficult to give up habits even if I don't enjoy them. Looking back, though, I think being forced to talk to people I didn't know did help a bit- it made starting sixth form a little less frightening.
When I was doing my GCSEs, the anxiety got worse, and I ended up losing most of my friends because I didn't keep in touch with them, and even the ones who stayed on at sixth form didn't want anything to do with me any more. The lowest point was when I started suffering from depression in the middle of applying to university- brought on by my feelings of despair at the sheer number of applicants for the course I wanted so desperately to do. But I wasn't good enough, and I was rejected. Everyone told me not to worry, but I couldn't help it- I'd set my heart on this course, and nothing else seemed right for me. But I finally managed to get an appointment with the doctor after taking an online test and realising I had most of the symptoms of depression: I didn't enjoy anything any more, and I didn't see the point in living on...
The doctor prescribed me antidepressants, and amazingly, they worked. I still have an obsessive personality, and there are times when I feel as if no one understands me, but I've been taking them for nearly a year now and things have definitely improved. I realised that I was being a bit stupid, and that the course I DID recieve an offer for sounded better than the one I'd wanted to do anyway- I'd just been blinded by its reputation. So I went away to university. Needless to say, I was terrified- but everyone else was too! To my great surprise, I got on really well with my flatmates, and found I had a lot in common with them. I even worked up the courage to tell them about my depression. I think I walked around in a daze for two weeks- I had friends, I had a social life, and I even signed up to volunteer abroad next year! I did have some worries- for instance, that people would think I was a freak because I haven't had a boyfriend yet- or even a first kiss! But I wasn't the only one, and people didn't think it was strange at all. I do tend to worry about things- it's the way I am. Just like the fact that I go through phases when I'm either really happy or really depressed. But I find the best thing to do is not to think of yourself as mentally ill. My gran has depression and she keeps talking about how she wishes she could get better, but she doesn't realise that she's a lot better than she was.
I realise that this probably won't help people who suffer from more serious mental illnesses- I'd definitely recommend seeing a doctor, rather than suffering in silence like I did. I hope this shows that it IS possible to recover from depression. The best advice I can give is not to beat yourself up about it- maybe not thinking about it is the best cure!